


Stories in the Sky

by wherethewordsare



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Idiots to Idiots in Love, Jaskier is bad at staying at camp, M/M, Star Gazing, snark and fluff, there is nothing here but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:47:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherethewordsare/pseuds/wherethewordsare
Summary: When Geralt gets back to camp and Jaskier isn't there, he tracks him to a clearing. Things don't go quite the way he was expecting.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 130





	Stories in the Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theamazingbard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theamazingbard/gifts).



> A very happy birthday to theamazingbard <3 i hope you've had an amazing day, sweetness!

Just once, Geralt would have liked to come back to the camp that they had set up to find that Jaskier had listened to him and stayed put. Just once. 

He turned on the spot, looking for a sign as to where the bard might have gone off to. But as he started towards the river, the sound of a lute floated back to him from the other direction. He followed the notes carefully through the trees until he came to a clearing. 

Geralt stayed back in the tree line, taking in the sight before him. The sky was clear and the moon was waxing, casting just a bare sliver of silver light. Geralt was not a blind man, nor so much of a fool that he could not see Jaskier’s obvious attractiveness. But like this, he was nearly ethereal. He was lying in the grass, his lute resting on his chest as he quietly sang to no one in particular. Geralt gave himself a beat to commit the moment to memory, knowing that Path was uncommon enough. It would be nice to have this moment to look back on, even if he couldn’t look too closely at why. 

“Jaskier, what are you doing?” he finally stepped out into the clearing but kept his distance with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“We always stay too far in the trees to see the stars like this. Come here,” Jaskier’s voice was filled with a kind of awe that was hard to deny. 

He made his way over, still standing over the bard as he looked up. This far south and this part of the year, it was a slightly different sky than what he was used to back in Kaer Morhen. 

“Down here, witcher. You’re blocking the view with that hulking form of yours,” Jaskier teased, a hand coming out and tugging gently at Geralt’s pant leg. He followed the tugging until he was sitting in the grass alongside Jaskier. 

“My gran used to tell me stories about the different constellations, how they came to be, about the gods and all of their capricious acts of rewarding their champions and their petty punishments,” he strummed a few notes idly before a hand came up level with Geralt’s face. “There are beasts and men and even witchers,” he pointed easily. 

Geralt looked down then. His breath caught as Jaskier’s eyes met his, shining and dark in the low starlight. They seemed to glow with that look he got when he had a good story. Geralt made a decision then, laying down beside Jaskier, turning slightly so their heads were closer together. 

“Tell me about the witcher?” he murmured, his hands coming up to rest on his chest. The ground wasn’t terribly hard here and the air was warm.

Jaskier hummed happily, shifting so that their shoulders were pressed firmly together. He set the lute down on his other side before lifting his arms to talk with his hands. It was a habit of his any time he told a story and it never failed to tug at the corners of Geralt’s mouth. 

“His name was Inar, and it’s said that he was one of the first,” Jaskier pointed to a cluster of stars, three in a line surrounded by a few others. “See there, his belt and shoulders. He holds a bow, hunting the first Wyvern.”

“Hm,” Geralt swallowed his usual words. 

“Listen, you ass, these are the stories my grandmother told me,” Jaskier shot back, knowing what Geralt was thinking but there was no heat to it, just a warm chuckle and a jostle of his shoulder into Geralt’s. “Do you want me to tell you the story or are you going to give that ‘hm’” and he pitched his voice low and gravely in an admittedly not terrible impression of Geralt. 

“Hm,” Geralt smirked, tipping his head back to look at Jaskier. He was rewarded with a smack to his arm and a huff. 

“Some nerve,” Jaskier pouted, barely keeping the laugh out of his voice. 

Geralt rolled to his side, coming up onto his elbow to look down at Jaskier. “Tell me the fucking story, Jaskier.” They were both grinning now. 

“Bossy witcher, fine, get back down here,” and Jaskier pushed up on Geralt’s shoulder moving him back down to the ground as he pointed to another group of stars, a line that curved low to the south. “Inar was one of the first Witchers, back when Witchers were still respected, even if probably less understood. But Inar was the bravest of them, and he kept the people safe. He chased the first Wyvern from Temeria to the Blue Mountains. They say he chased it right to the edge of the world and fell off and into the skies. The gods saw his bravery and allowed him to continue his chase.” His hands moved across the skies, tracing the pattern of pursuit, his pale skin catching the faint moonlight. 

Without thinking, Geralt reached up and wound his fingers through Jaskier’s, moving his hand to point to another cluster of stars. “What about that one?” He could feel Jaskier’s pulse jump at the touch but he didn’t pull away or disentangle as he followed Geralt’s line of sight. 

“That’s the Crow,” Jaskier said softly, his thumb moving across the back of Geralt’s. 

They stayed like that for a long time, Geralt moving Jaskier’s hand to point to another part of the sky, and Jaskier telling him all the stories he knew about it. Some of them, Geralt had even heard, others he was certain were made up, but he didn’t care. 

Peace was not something that was often found on the Path, but with Jaskier there, it always seemed to be easier to come across. Geralt was determined to hold onto that as long as he could, basking in the realization that Jaskier was holding onto him too. 


End file.
